Team Dream
by secondplacechampion
Summary: Kim and Ron, the morning after Prom, spend some quiet time together in the tree house, only to get some horrible news. A postStD fic.
1. Unspoken Trust

**Unspoken Trust**

* * *

Put this picture into your head.

Your sitting on a couch, the most comfortable couch you've ever set on, probably worn from years of use, and your in the arms of the one you love, hand slowly exploring the one doing the same to yours while you stare into his eyes, like you had done, hundreds . . . maybe even thousands times before, and yet, it feels like first time your seeing him. You've never looked at him this way before, and the saying 'a whole new light' suddenly makes since to you. He defiantly has a different sparkle in his eyes.

Or does he?

Has that sparkle been around for awhile, and you, in your self denial, just ignored it and played it off as friendly pride?

And if so, how long has that certain sparkle been there?

That, my friends, is what Miss Kimberly Ann Possible was thinking Saturday morning after her Prom, sitting on her favorite couch, holding her date's hand, staring into his eyes and still trying to get her mind around calling him her _'boyfriend'_.

She had tried so long to convince herself and everyone around her that Ron was JUST a FRIEND. Period. End. Of. Story.

Lately though, she had noticed the trends in movies, and in the TV sitcoms Ron watches, and comics, and songs, that the best friends make the best lovers. Somewhere, down deep-she will always say later, she always knew that last night was going to happen. Whether it was at the Prom, or on a random mission, or both, it didn't matter. What did matter is that it was going to happen.

And, somewhere down deep, she liked the idea.

His hand fit, perfectly-he told her-like it always has. She smiled, and then he smiled, which made her smile grow--which in turn made his mouth copy her action, and so on and so forth. Until, at least, Ron noticed that her, what started out as genuine, smile had turned into the fake one she wears when she's at a pep-rally, doing formation two-eight-six.

Double back bend twist with a front flip with a twist into the cradle of six girls ready to hold her up.

But that did not matter to Ron. His eyebrows creased in with worry as he leaned his head forward. His only concern was his girlfriend.

He had to remind himself that his rejoicing on the subject '_Kim Possible now has the title of Girl Friend of Ronald Arnold Stoppable'_, was great, because, well, the statement in itself was self-explanatory in his opinion, now was not the time. Kim was using her fake smile. She hated doing the fake smile, because she hated formation two-eight-six.

She noticed his look, and rolled her eyes.

'No big,' her eyes told him. But he was Ron Stoppable, newly appointed boyfriend of Kim Possible. He was not going to fall for that one anymore. He leaned his head down, to force his eyes into her vision. He caught her eyes and asked with his eyebrows again, to which he got the same response.

He sighed deeply, and Kim let go of his hand and started over to the picture of them on the Tree House wall. He watched her go, sadly, and sat back.

If she wanted to tell him, and she thought it important enough, she'd tell him.

Ron watched as she fingered his seven-year-old chin in the picture, and moved to another, repeating the action. She was being sentimental again, he knew that look in her eyes, wishing for times when their biggest problems were Arnie and his crew, or when their biggest mission was Mrs. Kramer's twelve cats they took care of when she went off with her old friends on their monthly trips to Las Vegas. She turned to look back at him, her hair doing that curvy, flippy thing it does when she turns like that.

He loved it when her hair did that.

He patted the seat next to him, eyebrows raised again. She laughed and moved back to the couch. She settled back into his arms, her face, as well as the real smile that had returned, moving closer to his. Ron tensed, still not quite used to this part just yet, but relaxed when he realized that he now had the title of '_Ron Stoppable, boyfriend of Kimberly Ann Possible.'_

When Kim finally pulled back, she was giggling, her face dusted with the lightest hint of pink. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes again.

Ron nodded, understanding her meaning, taking in a shaky breath. This was all really new to him, Kim had some experience, but, when it came to him, his experience in kissing was the equivalent to Drakken's experience having control over the entire world.

He's gotten really close, but Kim Possible just seemed to sneak into his lair—or in Ron's case—his mind, just the last second.

But he had a feeling Kim was in the same boat with him about the akwardness of it all. Less than twenty-four hours ago, all she would ever be to him was his best friend. Now here she was, all tangled up in his favorite jacket, and did he mention his arms? She had his jacket for years now. One cold night on the way back from one of their worst missions – the Heckler Triplets – it was raining, and Kim was shivering, and Ron decided to be a gentleman and give her his jacket.

Four years later, he still hadn't gotten it back.

But he sure liked it better on her.

But, before we get into too much back story on the clothing that Kim had picked out for her 'first date', let's get back to the subject—the akwardness of it all.

They had been best friends for over thirteen years. Over those years they drew a line that separated friendship, and what they are now. They didn't care about the Other side of the line for a few years. Then Ron just thought it was iky. Then Kim thought the thought of crossing it was stupid. Then Ron saw the Other side, and liked it . . . they treaded around it for awhile . . . sometimes teased, like your annoying brother does to get on your nerves.

'_MOM! She touched my space!'_

'_Did NOT!'_

'_Yeah she did Mom. Total violation of space.'_

'_You're the one that violated my space!'_

'_Nuh-uh!'_

'_Uh-huh!'_

'_Nuh-uh!'_

'_Uh-huh!'_

'_Nuh-uh!'_

'_Uh-huh!'_

'_BOTH OF YOU BE QUIET AND JUST IGNORE EACH OTHER!'_

'_Yes momma.'_

And then you'd end up playing tag later.

They crossed the line once. Not on their own doing, but for Ron . . . he got a taste of the Other side, and had craved it ever since.

Kim? Oh, she knew about it. But, Kim, decided that the Other side was created by the stupid moodulator, and should act like didn't exist. But sure was fun to day dream about in study hall.

They had spent so long telling themselves that the Other side was forbidden, not allowed. Period. End. Of. Story.

Now, oh but now, they had crossed it, on their own doing, in reality, not one that was created by villain or study hall alike. They really decided to stare the line down and jump over it.

What scared them, is, they feel like they didn't just cross the line, but completely tore the line up in small tiny chunks and scattered them all over the Milky Way.

This phobia did not keep them from the recreational activities that teenagers their age like to participate in.

Just when Ron had got up his nerve to slip some tongue—

BUM BUM BA DUM!

--Wade called.

Kim reluctantly pulled away from Ron, pushing herself off the couch and over to her pack. She answered, giving Wade an evil look that could rival Shego's.

"Yeah, Yeah, I know!" He said from the screen, holding up his hands in defense, "You're taking the day off because of your capture of Drakken last night. I KNOW! I do run your website, Kim. I read today's update.

Kim sighed.

Wade looked nervously at Kim and her look of death, and said as fast as his eleven-year-old mouth would let him, "IhaveamajoremergencyandIneedtotalktoRonbecausehecouldproblyhandlethisbetterthanyou.Ronnowpleaseandthankyou." He ducked from the screen like Kim was going to come and get him from four hundred miles away.

She nodded and gave the Kimunicator to Ron. Ron took it and put the ear piece in, just as Wade had instructed, and Wade began talking. Kim tried to read his lips, but Ron noticed and turned the screen away from her, his face taking on the same state of nervousment that resided on Wade's a few moments earlier.

What could Ron handle that she couldn't?

She started him down, starting at his eyes, his dark brown eyes. He may act naive, but he was far from it. He knew when to be serious, and when he needed to be, he ruled at it. Up on the Bueno Nacho headquarters tower and how he fought off Erik for so long . . . it amazed her. He had been shorter than her up until the summer before Junior year, now, he was a few inches above her. The right height. Guys like Brick were too tall for girls as short as she was. His blonde hair has always been the same bright burnt yellow she looked for at recess. His freckles covered his face, she didn't know he had so many freckles . . . she had never been that close to his face before last night . . . she loved his freckles. Even if he hated them.

His eyes turned to hers, staring her down, boring into her. His mouth started moving, and she became distracted, her eyes darting to his mouth. She never knew how wonderful his mouth truly is . . . next time his mouth is about to open and blow their cover on one of their mission's . . . she finally had a way to shut him up.

She smiled at the ways she could.

Then she heard a word that snapped her out of her day-dream and stuttered.

"W-what do you mean we're _fired_?"

* * *

**I want to continue this . . . but not if no one is reading . . . and the only way I know that isif you press this little buttion **

**vherev I like one-word-ers!**


	2. Crappy Policy

**Crappy Policy**

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Put this picture into your head.

You are seventeen and you graduate in two weeks. When you were fifteen and your baby/pet sitting service website was setting new records, a certain government agency came up to you, offering the chance of a lifetime. Ever since, you and your best friend have been traveling the world, frequently saving the day-and future for an agency called Global Justice. You would leave during some of the most important moments of your life just to jettison halfway across the globe in order for you to fight an unimportant villain.

Now, you've always had this one foe that you just couldn't take down. He always seemed to get away. The night of your senior Prom, you, at last, are finally able to catch him, and you spend the night with your best friend (the one that helps you on your various missions over the past three years) at the Prom to celebrate. Somewhere, in the middle of all the cheap crate-paper and lights, you end up kissing. You spend the entire night daydreaming of that best friend, and that first awkward goodnight kiss, or kisses that you gave her, and walking away from her, promising to spend all of tomorrow with her.

You do just that, and it goes wonderfully with her wrapped up in your arms.

Until, of course, you're being told to tell her the worst news she'll ever hear.

"What do you mean, 'we're _fired?"_

"KP . . ." Ron soothed.

Kim's anger was radiating off her in waves that Rufus could've ridden on a naked-mole-rat-sized surf board, "fired? Who called the order? Why are we being fired?"

"KP, look, hold on. Calm down. Fired isn't the word that their wanting us to use."

"Who are they? Global Justice? Why would they want to fire us! We just took down our biggest baddie! They should be getting us red sports cars and real paying jobs! Not firing us!" In the middle of her rant, she had stood up and started pacing around the tree house.

"Kim, apparently, they are forcing us into retirement."

"Retirement?"

"Yeah . . . apparently three years as a Junior Global Justice agent is almost two days too many. They only let us go these last few days to get Drakken."

Kim turned sharply, "who called the order?"

"Kim . . . its just company policy. We can't do anything about it."

"Oh, sure we can!" She started down the ladder to the ground, reaching for the Kimunicator. "WADE!"

Wade appeared on the screen with a grim look on his face, "Kim, I can't do anything for you anymore. If Global Justice found out that two decommissioned Global Justice agents were working together, we'd both be facing about three hundred agents, as well as three to five in prison. I'm sorry," he sighed, his head bowing, but when he looked up again the anger in his eyes could rival Kim's, "I'm as pissed as you. Believe me. I am."

He signed out.

Kim, halfway outside and halfway inside the tree house stared at the blank screen, determination slowly waning from her face.

Ron noticed this, "So, Global Justice headquarters is only, what? Six hundred miles away? That's like, twenty minutes on my faster-than-light moped! Let's go!" He grabbed his helments and moved to the hole in the floor. "What are you waiting for?"

Kim smiled, "You mean," her smile grew as he lowered himself to her eyes.

"Um, I don't think going down at the same time is a good idea," he put a smirk on his face, "much as I'd like to be close to you . . . I don't think we'd survive."

Kim laughed, and moved her foot down to the next rope.

"Finally!" she heard him shout, and she smirked.

Then she back flipped off the rope ladder, and landed perfectly. Just for affect, she added, "What's takin' you so long?"

"Sorry, Miss Cheerleader, some of us don't have enough curves to make the squad! We have to settle for mascot!"

"But I thought you liked being Mad Dog?"

Ron, landed his last foot on the grass, and turned to her, putting one of the helments on her head, "Oh, I do."

Thirty minutes later, Team Possible was walking into the front lobby of Global Justice Head quarters. Kim, being her assertive self, walked right up to the front desk and asked, "Who do I see about my termination of contract?"

Thirty more minutes spent on the most uncomfortable couch Kim had ever set on later, a woman walked up to her, "Miss Possible?"

"Yes."

"It is good to meet you. I'm Director Goose. I'm in charge of the Junior Division, and I hear that you have some questions about your termination."

Ron's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, let's start with an easy one." Kim started calmly, and then she lost all her patience, "Why?" she shouted.

Director Goose looked around the crowded Lobby and the faces that stopped to watch The Kim Possible loose her nerve. "Let's head to my office." Kim nodded, and Ron started to follow.

"I'm sorry, I'm only allowed to talk about this to Team Possible . . ." Director Goose trailed, staring Ron down.

"I AM a part of Team Possible," Ron said, his voice even and low.

Director Goose looked from Ron to Kim, "I'm sorry, our records say that Team Possible is only Miss Possible herself, and a young man, Wade Load. There is no one else."

"Well," Kim started, "He's on the team. He is the most important member to me. That's what's wrong with this place; you can't keep your records straight."

"Miss Possible, Global Justice prides itself in the manner of how we handle our Intel. On villains and agents alike. Now, please. My office is this way." Her hand in front of her like she was directing traffic.

Kim grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed. He glanced her way and smiled.

"Thanks."

"No. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Bringing me here."

"No big," he said.

She smiled, "Hey! That's my line!"

"Ready to yell at our ex-bosses, dear?"

Kim took in a deep breath, the anger returning to her eyes, "Yeah."

"Badical."

They walked into Director Goose's office, and got a strong whiff of mahogany. The office was dark; dark wood, dark wallpaper, dark upholstery, even dark lighting. It gave both Ron and Kim the creeps.

"Please," smiled Director Goose, "sit down. Let's discuss your problems with your contract."

"It's more like lack of contract. Why did you fire us?"

"We did not fire you. Your contract states, after three years under the title of Junior Global Justice agent, you were to go into Retirement, taking all important Intel that you learned here, to your grave. Or in your case, graves. It is company policy that no Junior agent can work more than three years, never have we had to do this to a Team, they all usually phase out because of the pressures of High School and College."

"College!" Ron shouted, "When we signed up, Global Justice said that I could get some kind of scholarship, they'd pay for my schooling if I choose from a list. I got accepted to one of those schools . . . is Global Justice still gonna pay?"

"Global Justice does have a policy of the equivalent. If you are going to one of those Colleges during your employment with us, then yes, Global Justice would be more than happy to pay for your education."

"So," Kim began, "We just need to renew our contracts?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Possible. One may only have one Junior contract at Global Justice. We cannot renew it, or change our policy. Even for a team as great as yours, Miss Possible."

"So," Kim stood up. "You're just going to fire us. From the sounds of it, you've never had a team go past the three year 'limit', and when you finally do, have a Team that not only is great, but is one the best ones . . . EVER, your just going to let us go?"

"We have no other choice, Miss Possible. You can't do super hero work anymore. We change one policy; we'll have to change a thousand. This system has worked for a few hundred years, let's keep it that way. You know the way out. Good day, Miss Possible, it was glorious to finally meet you."

Kim was fuming. She knocked over the chair on her way out.

She stopped at the door, "Oh, Director Goose?" she said sweetly.

Director Goose looked up and smiled, "Yes?"

Kim's sweet exterior dissolved quickly as she said, "Don't tell me what I can't do." She turned and left.

Ron, still in his seat, sighed.

"Can I help you, Mr. . . . ah . . ."

"Stoppable. Ron Stoppable. I am really sick and tired of people not knowing my name. Director Goose, no offence, wait . . . take all the offence . . . your system is wack. Whether you've noticed or not, the world has changed in the last few hundred years. You should try to keep up." He stood to leave, "Oh, and . . . you know? She's right."

"Who's right about what?"

"KIM! Gah," he took a deep breath. "She can do anything. She might not be able to do super work for Global Justice, then she'll do it for someone else."

Kim was standing at the door smiling.

They left the dark office.

Director Goose sat back in her dark chair, "everything's going according to plan." She smiled and went back to work.

* * *

**Alot of you were confused about the last chapter, and yes, it's a semi-allusion to Disney's crappy policy, but, this is actually a story to continue where Disney left off.**

**Please Review? Please?**


	3. Totally Filler

**Totally Filler**

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Put this picture into your head.

You're a genius. Not one of those common geniuses, your not all that stand-out-ish either, but, more-so than most geniuses. You don't get out much, and when you do, it's usually in the form of a hologram. You graduated high school when you were six, college when you were eight, and had four masters by the time you were ten. Just when you decided that you were going for your fifth masters degree, ya' know-for kicks, a government agency shows up at your house, demanding that you come work for them.

How can you say no?

Well, you don't.

For about a year, you make various gadgets and non-violent weapons for this organization. And one day, your searching the web, ya' know-for kicks, you stumble upon Kim Possible. 'She Can Do Anything', her website says. So, you try it out, and make a hit. She responds.

You tell the government agency that you work for about her, and they love her. They love her so much, they make her an honorary agent, and you her handler.

For the first time in your life, you feel as if the knowledge that . . . someone up their . . . gave you, is finally going to good use. Your mother's happy that you've made friends that she can see, and your father's just happy the government agency pays for your electric bill.

Three years later, it's over.

"Wade, tell me there's a loop hole . . ."

"I'd love to Kim, but I have a guy from law school looking it over, and he's the best around, he can't find anything."

"Well, there has got to be something!"

"No, Ron. They've deleted us completely from their files, except from the retired section. You put any of our names in their database; the only thing that comes up is some kind of prototype based off of Rufus."

Kim flopped down on her bed, and screamed into a pillow. Ron watched her as she threw the pillow at the end of the bed.

"Thanks Wade," Ron said, moving to the computer, "tell us if you've got anything."

"Sure thing."

The Kimunicator shut off. Ron got this eerie feeling, like it was the last time he'd see the little screen power down. He sat it down, and sat himself down in Kim's computer chair, facing her. She had pulled up her knees to her chin.

"What do we do now?"

Kim looked up, "Go to college. Study what we were gonna study, and get some kind of job at the CIA. At least . . . that's me. I couldn't NOT do this type of work. But . . . I mean . . ." she sighed, and threw herself down again. "This is SO wrong."

"Well, you can go to college."

Kim flipped her hair back, "What?"

"Global Justice was my ticket to college."

"What about all those Naco royalty checks?"

"Well, after the first one-and Dad found out what happened to it, and he took the rest of the checks, and he put them in this bond thing. The checks go directly into it too. Me and Dad tried all last night to get access, but no." here he threw his hands up, and said this next part in a deep voice, "Not until I'm twenty one."

Kim sat up, "So this means we're not going to Upperton University?"

"OH!" Ron moved to Kim's bed, "You are going." He grabbed her arms and held her still. "I'm the one not. YOU ARE GOING."

Kim was quiet for a just a second, "Not without you. Boyfriend or not, I wouldn't go. I couldn't. Not without you."

"KP . . ."

"RS . . ."

"It's just not the same. . ."

"Don't change subjects."

Ron sighed, "Kim."

"We've always said that we'd get the co-ed dorms. And, if we hadn't killed each other by sophomore year, we'd get an apartment."

Ron ran his hand threw his hair, "Kim."

"I could get my parents to pay for you! It's perfect! By the time we're done with college, you bond-thingy will be open and you can just pay them back! You had more than enough in the first check alone!"

"Kim, I don't want to ask your parents for money."

"You're not going to." She kissed him. "I am."

Kim walked downstairs, and found her parents talking to an extremely blonde woman in her living room.

Her mother noticed her and set up straight, "Kimmi! Speak of the devil! This is Director Halibut, she's come to tell your father and I about . . . your . . . um . . . honey," she turned to her husband, "why don't you take over."

"What your mother is trying to say Kimmi, is Director Halibut has informed us of your . . . um . . ."

"See!" Mrs. Possible cut in, "It's harder than you thought it would be!"

Kim rolled her eyes and turned to Director Halibut, "Do you work for Director Goose?"

"No."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Then why are you here? Goose was in charge of the Junior Agents . . . people." He looked at Kim, "volunteers . . . yeah, gunna shut-up."

Director Halibut turned towards Kim smoothly, and said evenly, "Director Goose likes to think that she's the mother, you could say, of our . . . younger Global Justice members, but, one thing that little brunette needs to get into her head is this pure and simple fact, she's not."

"What?" Ron yelled.

"Don't get me wrong. She is head of the Junior department, she just doesn't mother the way she thinks she does."

"Not gettin' it," Kim said, switching her weight from one hip to the other.

"She doesn't set facts straight," Director Halibut trailed, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and crossed her legs, "You two, weren't actually working for Global Justice, but Wade worked for GL long before anyone in my department knew you even existed."

"And what department is that?"

Director Halibut turned her head to look at Mr. Possible, "I am head of Human Relations, we are in charge of civilian acts, and our agent's families."

"But you just said that we weren't agents," Ron stated.

"True. But Wade Load is. We allowed him to work and act as your handler as a . . . job interview."

"Then why did you fire him?"

"Oh, goodness, no. We didn't fire HIM. His contract is a good fifty years."

"Then why are ours only three?"

"You two were also under contract, through Wade. By saying that you wanted to work with Wade, who is one of our agents, we had to create a contract that you had to abide. You have, wonderfully actually, but unfortunately, GL was only using you. We didn't want agents, we still don't. We have plenty-more than we can keep up with actually-so we don't need you."

Kim took a second, and took a deep breath, and took a look Ron, then her parents, then back to Director Halibut, "What else did out contract say?"

"I'll read it to you," she leaned down to the coffee table, and grabbed a piece of paper. "By working with WADE LOAD, a Global Justice desk agent, I, KIM POSSIBLE, agree to the terms and regulations set by Global Justice and I realize that these terms and regulations are available at my request at any time that I, KIM POSSIBLE, should ask. Upon a request of asking for Global Justice terms and regulations, I KIM POSSIBLE, must pay four cents a page for a copy of terms and regulations. I, KIM POSSIBLE, also agree to a term limit of THREE YEARS. Within these THREE YEARS, I, KIM POSSIBLE, agree to abide by the terms and regulations set by Global Justice. When the span of THREE YEARS has passed, I, KIM POSSIBLE, are aware that I, KIM POSSIBLE, have no further employment at Global Justice, also, I, KIM POSSIBLE, am aware that when the span of THREE YEARS has passed, I, KIM POSSIBLE, am no longer allowed to have contact with WADE LOAD in a work-related, this includes work that WADE LOAD has or will ever do for Global Justice, situation." She leaned back down and laid the contract back on the coffee table. She looked back up to Kim, who stood still.

Kim leaned back on Ron, "Um . . . I don't remember signing that."

"As a part of the terms and regulations, you don't have too."

"So," Ron started, "Global Justice could basically control my life without me having any say in it?"

"Yes."

"That is so wrong."

"So," Kim started, "What do I do now?" mimicking Ron's earlier question.

"Go to college, do what you wanted to be when you were a little girl. Surely you didn't want to grow up to be an intelligence agent."

"Yeah, actually . . ." Ron pointed up, "When I first met her, that's what it seemed like she was destined to do."

Kim smiled up to Ron, "Really?"

Ron nodded.

"Do you have any more questions?" she flipped her hair again.

Mrs. Possible saw the look on her daughter's face, and decided, right then, "I think you should leave."

Director Halibut nodded, collected some papers from the coffee table, put them in her briefcase, she walked toward Kim and placed her hand on her shoulder, "Kim, I am very sorry. But I must stress, you cannot work with Wade, or any other Global Justice agent. GL will NOT tolerate it. You can no longer work under the name of Global Justice. Do you understand?" Kim nodded. "Good," she smiled at Ron, "Stoppable."

Ron smiled, "You know my name."

"I read your file on the way over here." She turned to look at Kim and then back to Ron, "It's about time, is all I got to say."

Kim blushed.

"I'll show myself out. Thank you, Mrs. Possible, for allowing me this time with you and your family, Mr. Possible."

She walked out the front door and grabbed for her cell phone, and dialed a familiar number. Half way to her car, the person on the other end answered.

"Seila! Hi! It's Director Halibut," she got her keys out of her briefcase, "Yeah, is Goose in?" She unlocked her door, "Please." She got in her car and threw her briefcase in the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel.

"Goose, its Halibut. Team Possible now knows for sure they can no longer work for GLOBAL JUSTICE." She turned on the ignition, and smiled as the engine roared, "Everything is good to go."

* * *

Hey! All you people out thier that leave reviews, and those that don't . . . it's fine . . . kinda, because I'm ashamed that to say that I have done that too-read a story and didn't review.

ANYWAY! Some of you had some concerns in your reviews, and I decided that I was going to ease your worries.

**userx- Y**es, well . . .NO ON 65! I tried, and I like to put allusions like that in here and there, so, keep an eye out.  
**incredirader8- **You're on to something. Maybe you'll _reel_ in another one in this chapter . . . hehehe.  
**KPR- **Ok, so I know you're confused, I hope that you figured out, or I explained enough in this chapter . . . but remember . . . you're not supposed to know what happens yet.

Um . . . until next time . . .  
REVIEW!


	4. Contrasting Colors

**Contrasting Colors**

* * *

Put this picture into your head.

You're the only girl in your family; you're not the oldest, or the youngest, you're in the middle, two boys older, and two boys younger. One day, you're about ten, and you and your brothers are outside in your tree house, playing. You're sitting in the corner trying not to roll your eyes while the testosterone that is off playing house. You are about to offer to be the villain in cops and robbers when the incredibly stupid sounding happened.

A glowing rainbow meteorite crashed into your backyard, giving you and your brother's special powers.

Five years later, your parents die, leaving you in the hands of your oldest brother. He, in complete depression, bought an island with the chuck of change that your parents left him to take care of you with, and on it built, what he called, the Fortress of Justice. His plan was to become a clan of superheroes that fought to protect their city. You went along with it, even enjoyed it for a few years.

Then you turned seventeen.

Your brother's threw you a party, cake, streamers, the whole nine yards, plus a foot. You were about to open your presents when he made himself known.

_He was your ultimate downfall_, your brothers always said _why you're so bad in the first place._

He called himself '_Final Day'_. He wanted to take over the world, like a lot of the villains, and, like a lot of villains, he failed. But Final Day was different. In your eyes, he was perfect, just misguided.

He kidnapped you. For two weeks. He was never mean, or rude. He was very fair, and kind, and never once did he hit you. You weren't in a cell block, or in a small room under surveillance, lock and key. Instead, you were given a bed, three meals a day-your choice, and you had all the privacy you wanted.

But never once, did you leave his side.

Never once, did you sleep in your bed.

In those two weeks, you fell for each other, him bringing out something in you that you didn't think existed—villainy. When your brother's finally 'rescued' you, you didn't want to leave. The villains you faced after that were a bore; you could spot out their plans before they had time to reach Part B. Your brother's just thought that you were getting better at spotting evil.

Well, that much was true, you could spot it, but not because you wanted to stop it, but because you were attracted to it, seduced by it.

You left your brothers when you were eighteen, went to work for a man who wanted to take over the world, and hadn't talked to them in a few years.

Except for that time . . . but that didn't count . . . that was less than five hours, and you didn't _really_ try to kill them.

But today, oh, today . . . when you're sitting behind two inches of Plexiglas, sitting in an orange jumpsuit, hair still fried from the electric shock you experienced when your teenage foe kicked you into a tower and made it crumble . . . you want to wipe the too-good smile off of your older brother's face.

"Harold," Shego snapped into the two way phone.

Hego's smile widened, "Susan."

Shego rolled her eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Shego sat back into her chair, "Oh, I don't know," she leaned forward and stared into his face, "MOCKING ME?"

Hego shook his head, "Why, no little sister, I'm bailing you out."

"Say what?"

Hego did bail out his sister and her employer on three conditions, which, Shego, in turn, had trouble agreeing to.

But, after some talk with Dr. Drakken and another concert by Junior, she agreed.

Condition Number One:

Shego walked into the new house, with a disgusted look on her face and sighed deeply.

"Look at it this way," Dr. Drakken said from behind her. She turned to face him, "No more of that awful singing from that big chest-ed, twice named brat, and we get fluffy pillows."

"Yeah, but look what we gave up."

Dr. Drakken sat down his bags, "We get a new start?"

"In a house in Upperton, Colorado, constantly under surveillance by my brothers, in the middle of the biggest development of look a like dwelling places since . . . since . . . "

"We're not in jail . . ."

"We're not free either."

Condition Number Two

"Well," Dr. Drakken said, "We kinda are, we can go anywhere we want . . . buy things . . ."

"Yeah," Shego cut in, "Anywhere, as long as it's in Upperton, things, as long as they aren't weapons . . ."

"Hey, you're the one that said we should go along with your brother. Not me."

"You weren't the one sharing a cell block with DNAmy."

"Susan . . ."

"Gah," Shego threw up her arms, "I hate that. I hate the name Susan."

"Well, you can always change it . . . you don't have to go by Susan, as long as it's not Shego."

"I've been going by Shego for eleven years. I like the name . . . DREW."

"One of your brother's conditions was, we were to start over, not as Drakken and Shego, but as Drew and Susan. Civilians. You know that . . ." he trailed.

Condition Number Three

". . . It's on our marriage license," he finished.

"Look, don't remind me. I get the master bedroom suite, and you get the room down the hall."

"Yes, yes, that was what I was going to suggest." He bent down to pick up the bags again.

Shego started up the stairs, she turned down to him sharply, "and don't you get any ideas. I may have your last name now . . . but that does not mean that I'm going to do anything!"

Drakken stepped back, "why was one of the conditions marriage?"

Shego turned back to look at Dr. Drakken, "They think that if they don't step in and control my life, I will never live it. If I don't get married on my own . . ."

"You'll never get married, right . . ." Drakken nodded, "mother is like that . . . she'll be mad that she missed the ceremony . . ."

"What ceremony? You mean the one with the Court House Judge that happened to be their when Hego bailed us out?"

"Well, yeah."

Shego let out a huff of air, "men . . . I swear!"

"Shego . . ."

"What?" she snapped.

"Why did they want me? You know, as husband? I'm like twelve years older than you . . ."

Shego turned again, her face softer, "Their my big brothers . . . their only concern when it comes to me is my safety . . . they saw what you did in Go City, and thought you'd do it if I were ever in any kind of trouble."

"But, Shego," Drakken shrugged, "You know I would . . ."

"Right," she turned to keep going up the stairs, "fluffy pillows here I come!"

"You know," Drakken said from behind her, "Global Justice holding facilities do always treat you better than state prisons . . ."

Shego rolled her eyes, "and their a lot easier to break out of . . ." she mumbled.

* * *

**So, I realise that this is extreamly confusing, but, I PROMISE YOU that everything will be explained by the end . . . which is a good twenty, twenty five, or more . . . it really depends wheater I make it a trilliogy . . . then It would be longer . . .**

**Please Review, I write better knowing that someone IS reading . . .**


	5. Crossing Wires

**Crossing Wires**

* * *

Put this picture in your head. 

Four months ago, you started dating your biggest enemy's ex-boyfriend. A week later, you see why she dumped him in the first place. Two weeks after that, you wore a gown-not for the first time-but the most important time and walked across a make-shift platform in your high school's gym, shook hands with the adults who's eyes you constantly tried to ignore for the last two years, and received your High School Diploma . . . cover.

The important document would be coming by mail in the next month.

The day you got your diploma by mail, you also got an extraordinary piece of paper: your acceptance letter, saying 'Welcome to Upperton University'. You smile, and run to the phone and call up your best friend.

"Kim!" Monique squealed, "Guess who just got in Upperton University!" she practically screamed over the video screen. "Kim?"

The image on her computer screen was not the backdrop of Kim's room, like it had been before. "Did I get the wrong number?"

"Huh?" popped up a boy, about fourteen, from off-screen. "Owe!" he exclaimed as he bumped his head on his desk. He looked toward his end of the screen. "Monique?"

"Wade?" Monique questioned, "I thought you weren't working with Kim anymore?"

Wade's face darkened, "I'm not," his voice sharp, "I'm re-arranging; I think some wires got crossed. I'll patch you through. And congratulations, and tell them I said 'hi', would-ya?" He sat up in his chair and started typing away on his keyboard.

Monique smiled, "Thank you! And of course. It was good seeing you again."

"You too. I haven't seen many people since Kim and Ron were decommissioned."

Monique laughed, "Get out of the house some; that could help."

Wade smiled, "yeah, so I've heard."

The screen flashed black as the wires switched to Kim's home.

"Bye Wade," Monique whispered.

When Monique focused on the image in front of her she screamed as she lunged to turn off the computer. She sat; breathing deeply, hand still attached to the power switch.

"I defiantly do NOT want to see that again any time soon."

She sat at her desk, staring at the black computer screen. She just saw way too much of Ron than she ever cared about seeing. In a daze, she plugged the computer back in, deciding she needed to do something to cheer herself up.

Her opening screen came into view, and all the icons appeared on her desktop. Second one to the top, third row . . .

"I wonder . . ." she whispered. She hesitantly clicked the small phone.

Video Talk Inc. welcome sign came up, as well as the phone digits. She stared at the screen for a minute.

She smiled as she dialed the number.

The confused face of Wade popped up, "Did it fail?"

"No," Monique said, "You answered. You were who I wanted to call."

The confused face of Wade became deeper with confusion, "Why?"

"I'm sick of guys that can't talk on my level. You're above mine. Let's chat."

Wade laughed as he took a sip from a drink nearby, "about what?"

"I don't know, you pick?"

That was an easy one for Wade, "What are Kim and Ron up to?"

"Right now?" Wade nodded, "They are currently lying on Kim's bed, half naked, playing tonsil hockey."

Wade's face distorted, "Eww."

Monique laughed, "How old are you?"

"I'll be fifteen in a month."

She rested her head on her hand, ". . . and you haven't started thinking about girls yet?"

Wade became flustered, ". . . well . . . erm . . . You see . . . I . . . I uh . . ."

Monique's smile widened, "You have! Awe! That's so cute."

Wade rolled his eyes, "well . . ."

"Awe!" Monique leaned in, as she always did when she as about to hear a juicy piece of intel on a fellow human, "Do tell."

"There's nothing to tell. I don't even know if she's a girl! Let alone fourteen."

"What?"

Wade sighed, "you sure you want to talk to me?"

Monique smiled, "Go, boy-genius . . ."

"Fine," Wade huffed, "I met her in a chat room, there's no way to tell if she's telling the truth."

"You mean, you can't just type away some mumbo-jumbo on your magic keyboard and find that kind of info?"

Wade smiled, "Not that kind."

Monique's brow deepened.

"What I mean is, I can find her location, I could probably send a satellite over her area and get an infra-red scan of her home . . . but . . . I couldn't use my powers for that kind of spell."

Monique laughed at his joke, "see, all the guys I've dated couldn't keep up with that kinda thing . . . ya' got any genius friends around eighteen?"

Wade almost spit out his drink laughing so hard. Surprised by her statement, Wade looked at her for a moment, "well, there's Derek . . ." Monique perked up, "But, unlike me, he never goes indoors, and he likes his plants a little too well if you catch my drift . . . then theirs Brian, he's the type that likes to type, but I don't think he could read anything but ones and zeros."

Monique laughed, "So, I either get a nerd-type with nerd qualities, or a jock that doesn't know how to spell my name . . . my life's all good," she said with fake enthusiasm.

Wade smiled, "Well, if you're ever for a night all about plants and flowers, I'll hook you up."

"Good to know."

"Keep in touch will ya'?" Wade asked, "Please?"

Monique stared at him for a second, "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Besides, I might need a Calculus tutor come fall," she winked.

"You know my number," Wade said happily.

Monique sighed, "I'm going to see if Kim and Ron are done yet . . ." she shuddered, soon after, Wade blanched. "I'll call ya' soon."

"Good. Tell them I said hi."

"Sure. See ya'."

Wade nodded and shut off his end of the connection and smiled.

* * *

Hey, sorry for the half year delay, but when I heard that KP was getting picked up again I abandoned this for hope of inspriation of true cannon Kim and Ron goodness, but the wait has gotton on my nerves. This was written before I so unjustly left it. And I have a sixth chapter in works, but I have to dust it off a bit before the world sees it. Hope you not too angry at me . . . 


	6. Mission: Untitled

Mission: Untitled

* * *

Put this picture into your head. 

You graduated. You moved into your dorm at college. You started your classes. You suddenly realize you have a lot more time on your hands than you used to, and are a lot better at this school thing than you thought you were. Your roommate-and girlfriend (how you pulled that one off-you will never know) - is in a depressed mood. You've tried all that you know to snap her out of it, even some suggestions from your psychology book and a trustworthy website online, but nothing has come out a successful mission.

That's another thing.

Lately, you've been calling the stupidest things 'missions'. Like, going out for milk, is a mission. Study Spanish-so a mission. Anything that required conscious thought was a mission in your book.

Anyway, your girlfriend is in a depressed mood. You can't do anything to help except try to make her smile. You know why she's depressed. It's the same reason why you call everything in your life a mission.

Something's missing.

One night, you're in the study room, (also known as 'your old room') trying to give your girlfriend some space, thinking that might help. It doesn't last for long since she calls out your name from the living area.

"RON!"

You run in, worst thoughts coming to mind, like, Monkey Fist had returned for a final battle to decide who is the one and only true Monkey King and who is the worthless primate.

All Kim had done was turn on the TV.

Ron let out a sigh, secretly upset over the fact that it wasn't Monkey Fist.

"What's wrong?"

She raised her hand and pointed at the television. Ron made her way towards her and faced the television. From there, Ron shouted.

A lot.

"NO! We have to do something! We did not just spend three years trying to capture theses guys to have them walking the streets of Upperton! NO!"

"The TV says that their names are Drew and Susan. Shego's name is Susan-awesome."

"What has gotten into you?"

Kim blinked.

"Why am I the one freaking out, and you the one all calm?"

Kim shrugged, "Why are they even on the TV?"

Ron faltered, suddenly just as curious. Kim leaned down to the TV and pressed the volume up.

". . . you know, just trying to be good citizens!" said Shego, obviously forced.

The preppy news announcer turned around, "well their you have it folks, just two citizens of Upperton, helping a family out of their demolished car before the train could go and make it worse. Obviously, they are a wonderful example of what everyone in this town should try to be. Back to you, Stan."

"Thanks Sarah that is a wonderful story, now for the weekend outlook. What do you think Mike, is it going to be sunny or rai-"

We'll never know what Mike thought the weekend's weather would be like because Ron had shut off the TV.

"No way."

* * *

"Damn it, Drew, one of these days, we're going to get caught!" Shego yelled as she unlocked her front door. 

They walked into the entrance hall, taking off their coats, "we didn't."

She turned sharply, "we were on Television. Who knows who saw us!"

"What kind of nit-wit watches channel thirteen, it's unlucky!"

"We watch channel thirteen ya' nitwit!"

Drakken sat still for a moment, "oh."

"On top of that, you had to feel sorry for the man that ran out of gas on the train tracks."

"It was cold out, he had plenty of gas, or else the car wouldn't have blown up like it did, and he had twins in the back seat!"

"Babies."

"Exactly!"

Shego took a deep breath, "You are exactly like your mother."

Drakken gasped, "I am most certainly not! Now, I'm going to go bake some sugar cookies for the neighbors and then I'm off to the basement. If you need me . . ."

"I know, I know," Shego trailed, "just knock!" She made her way up the stairs, "With out the flux visulator, you aren't going to get far in the basement tonight, are you?"

"There will be other flux visulators!" he called from the kitchen.

She sighed, "Not for the next three months," she said under her breath as she rubbed her neck. She turned toward her bed room, threw her blouse on her bed and walked straight into her bathroom. Starting the water for a bath, Shego stared into the mirror above her sink.

She hadn't changed much, her dark hair still long, her thin frame still thin. Her green skin had gotten lighter though, due to lack of the tropical lair. She was in North Colorado for Pete's sake; she covered up most of the time just to attempt to stay warm.

Her bath was the only way she ever truly achieved her goal of keeping heat within her frame. She had just poured in her favorite bubble soap when the doorbell rung. She rolled her eyes, knowing that she'd somehow get pulled downstairs by Drakken's stupid enthusiasm of another door-to-door salesman.

She pulled her bathrobe on tightly around her and braced herself for the lack of bubbly heat her bedroom would procure.

Just as she opened her bed room door, "Susan!"

"Drew! We are not buying anymore wonder-knives, or encyclopedias."

"I still use those knives," he said from the bottom of the stairs, hands on his hips. He adjusted his apron. "And who knows, we might need those information providers!"

"It's called the internet."

He sighed, obviously frustrated. "Just come down here. We have visitors."

"I swear if they are in matching suits carrying briefcases I will-so help me God . . ." she said, hands beginning to glow a bright green at her fingertips.

"I know, I know," he said, turning from her with a wave of his hand, "You'll tear me apart limb from limb with your own hands and feed me to the dog you won't let me have."

The glow stopped and Shego descended the stairs, "At least we have an understanding."

When she reached the bottom his lips curved up into a sinister smirk, "Well, they are in matching uniforms."

Shego stood for a second before what he said sunk in, "DREW!" She lunged for the blue man, taking flight from the bottom step.

"Hey sis, you don't want us to report this as a domestic disturbance do you? We just decided to drop in and see what was up!"

"Yeah! We saw you on TV! Is our baby sister rejoining the passage of do-gooders?"

Shego rolled her eyes, "No. It was all him." She roughly pointed to Drakken.

Drakken rolled his eyes, "Twins!"

She threw her hands up in frustration, "Doesn't matter!"

"You are so . . . so . . . so evil sometimes!" Drakken shouted from behind his 'light red' (or so he calls it-Shego calls it 'pink') apron.

Shego crossed her arms, "thank you." She threw her head back and stuck her nose in the air.

"And frustrating!"

"Thank you!" She started back up the stairs.

"And rude!"

"Thank you!" she bent her knee and lifted her weight as she threw a wave over her shoulder.

"And SELFISH!"

"Thank you, and unless you have anything left to add to the list Drew, I'm going to take my bath now, and, as always, dear brothers, GET OUT!" Her hands glowing, a warning her brothers weren't taking.

Hego cocked his head and popped his neck, "We were just wondering, baby sister, what you were doing so far north."

Shego was still for a moment, racking her brain for anything that could be that far north. The only thing that far was the train station and the Upperton Dump.

OH! And . . .

"The drive in. We went to the movies!"

"What did you see?" Mego directed this question to Drakken.

Who answered, very smoothly, "The new Heather and Quinn movie."

Wego jumped, "The Heather? And The Quinn? I've been dying to see that! Was it any good?"

Drakken leaned back and stroked his chin with his two fingers, "well, the acting was superb, to be expected, and the story line and plot was wonderful, but the cinematography was slightly dull. I give it a solid B."

Wego shivered in youthful glee-"Sweet! I knew it!"

"Uh, Me? Bath. You? Gone. Like? Now." Shego said from the top of the stairs.

"Same ol' Susan," sighed Mego.

"I guess their story clears. Go Team . . . away!" Hego shouted, and in a flash of bright glowing rainbow light, they were gone.

"That was unbelievably unnecessary."

"No," said Drakken, "What was unnecessary, was your brothers leaving through the front door with it closed."

"That's what I was talkin' about, Dr. D. If you need me, deal with it on your own."

"Oh."

* * *

"No way." 

"What are we going to do Ron? We have to do something! Anything!"

"What _can_ we do Kim? Send them a warning in the shape of a cookie platter?"

Just as Ron's seemingly sarcastic statment floated across Kimberly Ann Possible's consciousness, the first true smile in weeks had filtered across Ronald Arnold Stoppable's face. It was written all over her face.

Kim Possible had a mission, and Ron was sure he was along for the ride.

* * *

Alright, the true plot is about to begin! 

Heather and Quinn do actually belong to disney . . . sad but ok with me.


End file.
